


Take That.

by Alexandria_Antoinette



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Interrogation, Jason Todd is Alive, Kidnapping, Mafia AU, PTSD, Poor Jason - Freeform, Strangulation, Torture, amputations, infections, this is all horrible, this is why we cant have nice things, water boarding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20032141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandria_Antoinette/pseuds/Alexandria_Antoinette
Summary: Jason knew, before he was even fully conscious, that today was gonna be a  bad  day. If it wasn't the pounding in his head that gave it away, then it would have been the feeling of one of his fingernails being lifted with something-a knife, or maybe some sort of needle."Wakey-Wakey baby-bats; we've got a lot to talk about, you and I."





	Take That.

_ "Ya know," Tim's voice drawled over the phone's speaker, "If you just stopped giving Bruce such a hard time he wouldn't get as snappy with you." _

_ Jason rolled his eyes and took another whiff of his nearly-burnt-out cigarette, stomping on it once he let it fall to the concrete below him. _

_ "Of course I know that, Timmers; but if I don't give 'em a hard time, who will? You? Dickie?" _

_ "Jason, you know Bruce has his hands full with Damian and Talia; we can't afford to place too much pressure on him outside of that." _

_ Jason felt a heavy ball settle in his stomach; wincing, he acquiesced his defeat with a huff. _

_ "Alright fine, I'll play nice until this all blows over. Lord knows I have all the time in the world to bother him afterwards. So I'll see you at dinner on Monday?" _

_ "Yeah, at Bruce's. See you then." _

_ The end beep of his call was the last thing Jason properly processed, save for the sudden rush of feet from behind him, and the 'thunk' of a heavy fist forcing contact between itself and his skull. _

* * *

Jason knew, before he was even fully conscious, that today was gonna be a ** bad ** day. If it wasn't the pounding in his head that gave it away, then it would have been the feeling of one of his fingernails being lifted with something-a knife, or maybe some sort of needle. 

"Wakey-Wakey baby-bats; we've got a lot to talk about, you and I." 

Jason groaned and tried to lift his head up to look-maybe at whoever just spoke, maybe to the ceiling to start praying- but his head was swimming to heavily for that. The best he managed was to crack his eye-lids open ever so slightly, the dim lights still enough to make his head throb with another wave of pain. 

A pale face was looking up at him from a deep crouch, a small pocket knife in his hand as he dug it further under his nail. 

"Ah, he lives at last!" The unfamiliar gravel of the man's voice set Jason's nerves on edge; who was he? The man pressed the knife ever so deeper, elevating the nail just the slightest bit as blood began to drool over the side of his hand. He groaned again, finally registering the thick wad of fabric in his mouth when he tried to open it and-what? Bitch? Complain about the customer service here? Something like that. 

When Jason tried to get a better look at the man, he almost managed to startle. Greasy green hair, sickly pale skin and ** waaaaaay ** too much lipstick all wrapped up in a painfully purple and green pin-strip suit. God if he wasn't gagged he would have spit on this monstrosity of a fashion disaster. 

"Now listen here kiddo," The man grabbed a handful of Jason's hair and yanked his head back so he could look down into Jason's eyes, "I know this isn't exactly the best first-impression I could have made, but you see, I'm in a bit of a pickle with your father and; well I just wanted to have some-let's say' leverage' on him. You understand, right?" 

Jason mumbled. 

"I'm sorry, what was that?" 

The man cupped a hand around his ear and brought his head closer to Jason's face. Jason, in a strike of dumb luck managed to put enough effort into moving to ram his poor throbbing forehead into the man's temple; hard enough to knock him off balance and sprawl onto the ground before him. 

Jason immediately loathed that decision for two reasons: One, his head was no longer swimming, it was drowning. Two, the man started laughing. Like it was the funniest thing to have happened in years; even with blood slowly making its way down his deathly pale skin, even with the bruise that's already forming. He's _ laughing _. 

"Oh baby-bat's you truly never disappoint, do you? Oh I'm so happy we managed to get you and not that tiny one; little bastard, he is, what with his _ Drake _ ** and ** _ Wayne _ name; he's some royal pain in the ass, is all he is." 

Jason watched as the man picked up a crow-bar in his hands; fresh, brand new, not a scratch on it. 

"Let's warm up, shall we? _ SWING BATTER-BATTER _!!" He swung the crow-bar into Jason's chest with hardly any hesitation, sending Jason wheeling-he's strapped to a wheelchair?- back into the darker corners of the room, the shattering of his sternum as loud as a bomb in his ears. 

* * *

The entirety of Jason's weight was on his chained wrists, blood and puss from the indents in his skin flowing down his arms and to his elbows like molasses. He tried to lift himself to his feet, but the wave of -_ burninghotpainbroken- _stopped him. When he let his head hang again, to look at why exactly he couldn't support his own weight, he gagged. His shin was indented, the bones broken and misplaced and completely destroyed. He moaned, letting his head tip back and gazing up into the blinding light right above him. 

"Ah, our shining prince is finally here! Great to see your up and rearing kiddo; was scarred I'd done you in too early there." 

Jason glared at the fucker-no, he refereed to himself as Joker, and he is a fucking joke. Jason tried to get a grip on the chains around his wrists, but the two missing fingers on his right hand, and the horrible infected finger on his left saved little room for movement or grip. His right eye was swollen shut from the left-hook the Joker delivered right before he passed out, and every blink felt like bleach was poured into his eyes. 

"Aww, poor baby-bats; you might not make it much longer like this." The mocking tone set a fire in Jason's chest. "How's about you go ahead and tell me _ all _ your daddy's precious secret's, and I'll let you go?" 

Jason let his head hang down to his chest in faux submission, waiting for the feeling of fabric being removed from his mouth and the hand in his hair to lift his head in a painfully tight grip. Joker brought his smiling face close to Jason's; so close he could- 

"Any-" Jason coughed up mucus and blood, "Anyone tell you-you should brush your teeth a little more? I can see last nights dinner in there-" 

Joker twisted his face up in anger, stepping back and- well, there went that tooth. 

* * *

This was the third time his head was dunked into the bleach-infused water; his lungs were burning and his blood stained the water pink. Thrashing never did him any good, his legs could tell him that, but his upper body still shook with instinctual tremors every now and then. His mouth opened and a lungful of water entered his chest, replacing the once stale oxygen immediately. His head was held there for another moment longer before it was ripped back up, spluttering painfully as he tried to cough up the liquids still in his lungs. 

"Anyone ever tell you your a pain in the ass?" 

Joker's voice was rough, but there was an almost urgent edge to it that made Jason almost manic; by his count it's been three days in a cycle of being unconscious and tortured. Jason spit another mouthful of bloody, mucus coated water and grinned a toothy smile; well, with as many teeth as he has left. 

"Ah, once or twice. Why, ya gettin' a little worried?" 

Watching the man's face twist up in fury is probably the most satisfaction Jason's managed to feel these past three days. His smile fell when a fist made solid contact with his already shattered jaw, pain exploding in his entire body and rendering him useless for a solid seven or eight seconds. Heaving another breath in, he lifted his head up again, locking eye contact with Joker. 

He let the silence sit for a moment before gathering as much air as he could into his (Probably rotting) lungs and wheezing a bloody, messy, _ wet _ laugh in the mans face. 

"There's only so much torture you can inflict," Jason croaked, "before you just can't step it up. What now, huh? How many hits do you think a man can really take before he keels over and just dies, eh?" 

Jason grunted when another blow was delivered to his midsection. God it hurt so bad. 

His left arm was completely shattered, that much he knew for a fact. Both his hands were incredibly infected, both from where the rusty shackles dug in, and from the stumps where seven of his fingers used to be. His entire jaw was swollen and crushed, his eye was most likely gone at this point (One too many hits to his temple could do that to a man, he supposed). His legs, when he felt the sick want to look down at them, were bent at wrong angles, bones sticking out of skin in some sick angle that would make him puke if he even had anything to puke up in the first place. 

His lungs burned and ached with every breath and they were slowly becoming more shallow with every minute that passed. His body couldn't produce any more adrenaline, couldn't help numb the pain he felt; and he felt it _ all _ . every shattered rib, every slice made into his skin, every throb of his heartbeat throughout the infected areas and missing stumps where there used to be flesh and bone and _ him _. 

"Listen." Joker's voice was nearing panic; as close to panic as a maniac can get, at least. "Your daddy's gettin' just a _ little _ too close for comfort. If you just tell me a few things about him, I'll let you go." 

There were gunshots in the background, Jason was sure of it. He wasn't hallucinating it, he could practically feel the vibrations of a bullet hitting walls in his chest. 

"Oh, sure." 

Joker perked up, smiled; brought a hand to Jason's broken and bruised jaw to look him in the eye. 

"Bruce is a Scorpio, he says he likes black coffee but really he pours so much sugar in there it's almost like syrup. He claims he's six two but he's actually only six one-" 

Joker growled and stood, Jason's hair now clenched in his hand as he brought a knee to the mans face, blood staining his (Honestly atrocious) white dress pants. 

There was an explosion this time, shaking the metal framing of the room Jason was in; he laughed when more gunshots became audible. Before he could make a joke, before he could even say anything, he watched as Joker pulled a gun from his holster. 

Held it up to Jason's head and laughed, pulling the- 

The splashing of water against his swollen face woke Jason, violently sputtering and coughing as he came to. 

"Aww, did we wake you up baby-bat's? Don't worry, we're almost done; then you can just go right on to sleep." A pair of pliers slipped between his chapped, bleeding lips and forced his broken jaw wide, clamping into a molar and twisting violently. The worst part, besides the pain of course, was hearing your own tooth ripping form your jaw; the squelching and tearing as its forced from your mouth. 

"Ooohh, looks like your the tooth-faerie's favorite little boy, huh?" 

God, he didn't know how much longer he could deal with this. 

* * *

  


"For the last time," Dick spit out, "Where is he?" 

Roman, after finally managing to control his wheezing breath, grunted. 

"Anyone ever tell you you've got one hell of a kick?" 

Dick raised his leg in an attempt to deliver another blow, but was halted by Bruce's hand on his shoulder. "Listen Roman, we know you need our help in cutting Penguins gun's down a size. The only thing we need of in return, is the Joker's location." 

Roman laughed, his mask muffling the slight gasps he still had to take in from Dick's blow to his stomach. 

"You ever met Joker?" Roman asked, and continued on before either Bruce or Dick could confirm that _ no _, they hadn't. 

"People honestly believe he's some sort of demon; like he's not from here. He's a complete psycho, out of his mind. Rumor says he killed his mom, dad, and twin brother just cause he could. He's been tested for everything under the sun; disease, mental illness, psychosis, anything. They ain't found shit, and ya wanna know why?" 

Roman leaned in closer to the two. 

"Because there ain't nothing medically wrong with him. He does what he does because he can, and he want's to. Nothing more complicated, nothing to be excused. If he has some sort of beef with you, then don't get me involved. I don't want that clown-lookin' freak on my tail 'cause I helped you." 

Roman started to turn, looking to leave before Bruce spoke up. 

"We'll trade you half-a million for his location." 

Roman paused in his stride, one hand reaching into his pocket-maybe for a phone, or a knife, but there wasn't anything to indicate something large enough to be a gun-and tilted his head to the side, his mask facing Bruce. 

"Okay, now you've grabbed my attention. Half, huh? What exactly has Joker done to ya, if your this willing to get to 'em?" 

Silence followed the question, and Dick could feel the hand on his shoulder tighten minutely before Bruce spoke. 

"He's taken someone from me." 

Roman whistled, both hands now in pockets, and rocked back onto his heel. 

"Did he take one of your kid's?" 

Silence. 

"Ooohhh, he did, didn't he? That slimy bastard just doesn't know any limit, does he? Yeah, alright. I'll help. Which one of your's did he take, then?" 

Dick felt Bruce tense behind him. Everyone in _ both _ families knew Jason was Roman's favorite. Their negotiations were always more than what they would let on, leaning less towards 'business' and closer to 'personal.' Roman hardly discussed with anyone other than Jason, and Jason was always able to land a solid deal with the man. No one really knows what it is that's between the two, but it was a hell of a lot more than just a _ preference _. 

Personally, Dick believed the two were involved. Yeah, there was probably little to no 'romance' in the relationship, but they did care for each-other, in their own round about way. The last person to try and pull a shady deal over Jason ended up being dragged out of the lake three days after Jason went out on a vacation, with a missing heart. So no, it's not a typical relationship, sure; but there was a confidence in Dick that if they had Roman's help, then they would find Jason in a matter of hours. 

Roman made his way around the large desk, placing it between them all, and grabbed at a stack of papers to begin idly flipping through them. 

"Joker abducted Jason three days ago." 

Roman's hands immediately stilled. 

"He was taken off the side of the street, and by our calculations between ten P.M and four A.M. at the corners of Beaker and Bohemian." 

Dick couldn't tell if Roman was looking at him or not, but soon enough he did speak. 

"Who exactly did your calculations?" 

My second youngest, Timothy." 

Roman hummed and opened his laptop. 

"Seven miles from Beaker and Bohemian there's an old abandoned oil factory I know Joker uses as a hide-out whenever he needs to lie low. It's not unusual he brings someone over whenever he needs to, ah, play with them. I would place my money on Jason being kept there." 

Bruce nodded his thanks, "You'll be seeing that money in less than twelve hours." and turned to leave, Dick following until- 

"I'll also be willing to send a group of my own men out to retrieve Jason, if you feel you need the help." 

Who's leading?" Dick questioned as Bruce pulled the door open. 

"Wilson." 

Now Dick _ knows _ they'll have Jason out in no time; weather alive or in not, they'll find him. 

(Dick just hopes he'll find him alive; by god does he hope. He can't lose another member of his family, he just _ can't _.) 

* * *

  


Another blow sent him sprawling to the ground, jaw clacking as he landed on his stomach. 

"God, please just stop." Jason nearly sobbed as Joker grabbed the back of his collar in his hand and hefted him to his shattered knees, uncaring for Jason's weak attempts of a struggle. 

"Aww, you given' up so soon?" 

Jason cried; let a tear slide down a swollen, bruised cheek. 

"Now now, don't cry. I'm sure your daddy's comin' to get'cha real soon, baby-bat." 

Joker pat his cheek once, twice, then reared back and slapped him so hard his teeth gnashed together painfully. 

"Uuhh, puddin'?" The voice of Joker's second, Harleen, spoke out in a hesitant voice. He turned his head slightly, looking back at her position near the door. She wasn't looking at him though; her eyes were locked on the door as she took a step back, one hand moving to the holster on her hip. Jason felt dread fill his stomach; was he just dreaming again? 

He watched in a detached sort of manner as the door was kicked down, the barrel of a rifle entered the room, shooting the woman once, twice, three times as she fell. Three more people filled the room, and Jason felt as Joker grabbed his neck and brought the barrel of the gun to his temple, laughing. 

"Doesn't anyone have a sense of humor anymore? It was just a little prank, is all!" His now shrill voice screamed, followed by another laugh. 

"Let go of him." 

Slade? Since when does he ever dream of _ Slade _? 

"No can do Mr. Eye-Patch; see I still need him for some leverage against Bats. No hard feelings though, right?" Another gunshot sounded out, followed by a scream from the man behind Jason. 

Jason listed forward once the tight grip around his neck released him, and the last thing he remembered hearing (And he wouldn't doubt it if he just imagined it) was Wilson's tiny, almost horrified whisper of _ "Oh my god." _

  


* * *

The next time Jason woke up, he half-expected to be met with another kick to what few teeth he had left; not to blinding bright lights and smell of ammonia. He groaned as his head throbbed; but it was almost a muted throb. Like he was hearing his own heart-beat through cotton. Confused, Jason tried to open his eyes further, and found only one would open. 

"Oh my god. Guys wake up, he's moving!" Someone's voice -so _ familiar _ \- sounded out from somewhere on his right; then, quieter, smaller: " _ Jason _?" 

Jason groaned again, tried to speak; but his mouth wouldn't open? 

"No, no don't do that," someone said when he tried harder, "Your jaw had to be wired shut a few days ago." 

Jason finally managed to move his head to the right; a tall man, bright blue eyes- _ Dick _. Jason sobbed in relief, reaching a wrapped, shaky hand out to the man who in turn gently placed his own hand around his lower arm. 

"Do you remember anything? Anything at all?" Jason looked down at the hand still lying on his stomach, not completely wrapped, and watched as he felt his middle and ring finger moved; but the stumps were still there. Pink and still scabbed at the end. Jason brought his eye back to Dick and felt his bottom lip try to wobble; god, he was so scarred he might _ die _ there- 

Bruce stepped up next to Dick, one hand on his shoulder and the other drawing close to touch Jason's cheek; it felt like their first meeting all over again, the first time Jason ever felt something like well intention touch. He tried to grasp the hand on his cheek, but the heavy bandaging on his hand stopped him. Bruce looked down, closed his eyes, breathed in very deep and- 

"look Jason, you're- you're in a bad way; do you understand? You have a very long healing process ahead of you." 

Jason narrowed his eye, nodded slightly; his mama, as little as she was in his life, didn't raise some weak bitch. If he could handle taking _ Joker's _ beatings, he could handle healing from it as well; right? 

"Do you want to know what all happened?" Tim, from his left, asked. Jason rolled his head over to face him and nodded. Narrowing his eyes, Tim brought his gaze down to the clipboard he held in his hand and began reading. 

"Complex Mandible fractures, shattered left and right patella, compound fracture in right tibia, comminuted break in left tibia. Fractured left Ulna, compound fracture in right humerus. Infected wounds in left and right hand from open wounds in fingers, required amputation of right hand up to beginning of ulna. Infected wound in left cornea required removal of eye tissue." 

Jason closed his eye and sobbed as loudly as he could through his wired jaw. Dick's hand was heavy on his shoulder as Tim read off his condition, and god how he is going to get past this? 

  


* * *

It was the first time Jason managed to walk around his room without help that truly shined the light on him; he's still alive. He's not dead in some ditch somewhere, just another statistic in the U.S. fucking A. 

He was walking and talking when he wasn't sleeping. He could feed himself, and has gotten used to working with his left hand as well as he could with his missing fingers. He could write and type as long as he did so with patience. He was living. 

Sure, he wasn't past what had happened. He still woke up expecting a punch in the face and a gleeful laugh from a blood-red mouth, he couldn't look at a crowbar or wheelchair without wanting to puke his guts out. 

But he was living, and breathing; talking and laughing. 

He's not past it, he might never will be. But he's living with it; and if you were to ask Jason? 

That'd be enough. 


End file.
